The fallen (tentative tittle)
by greye05
Summary: AU. A man broken by war, gets another chance at life. With a trouble mind, confused at the similarity of what he sees. What would this man be able to do in the HP universe? How can he influence and help Harry in an age where technology is the way of life. Lets see what chaos an outsider can create in the British Wizarding World.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or anything else from JKR world.

AN: Well this is my first try at a fanfic. Keep in mind English is not my first language. The story will move the original time-line 10-15yrs in the future. My current word target is 40-50k if i need more i will continue to expand it. The first few chapter will take focus on OC most of the time, with some of them devoted for Harrys child hood. I will try an update at least once a week, if i can do more then so be it. Me and my beta are in the process of fixing up the next few chapters. I rather wait and have the chapter right than full or errors. Rating is T for now, if i feel like it needs it i will upgrade it to M. Hope you enjoy it...

Huge thanks to **tomroodle** for been beta to this story. She has done an amazing job helping me and making sure I understand what i did wrong. THX

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Chapter 1

I'm a long way from home.

How did I get here? I have no fucking idea.

It started when I was 23. My life was in declining in every aspect. Every day that went by I got worse. I had so many dreams. I wanted to make my family proud, give them all that they deserve, but instead I let life slowly take me down. I became the thing I hated most, disappointing my family in almost everything.

A few months after I turned 23, my prospects were not good. I'd flunked out of college for the second time, I was getting fatter by the minute, and my social life was a joke. I had become a hermit and a parasite living in my home. Before this I used to think that I would rather be alive and utterly depressed than dead. To tell you the truth, I was terrified of death. No matter how bad my mental state got I still love to see the world around me. But things changed. I started to question myself: was being alive worth it? I knew my problems weren't so bad-kids in other countries were fighting for their lives. Still I felt I was wasting away slowly, painfully. I loved my family and I wished I could have been a better son and brother. But instead I was a terrible person, unworthy of their love.

On October 26, 2016 I lost everything. My family decided to go to some event, like always i refused to go. While they were out, some religious nut jobs decided to blow themselves up and take the only thing that I loved with them.

What a wake up call it is to feel so alone.

I kinda went crazy after that. I knew that after this I was never going to be the same. There was only one thing I wanted: revenge.

I told myself that it would help to fix me. But I was wrong. The tragedy accentuated my more heinous characteristics-the ones always lurking on the surface. I was losing control and, slowly but surely, I could feel my grasp on reality slip.

By the time I was 26 I managed to turn things around. I'd gotten back in shape. I finished my engineering degree, though I hated every second of it, but my mom would've wanted to see me do it. I did not care for my degree, I found a job in an entry level position. It was a boring job, mindlessly droning on about the same task each day. I could not deal with the stress and monotony of my job, 6 months later i quit. With no future prospect and no family that i could care enough to be with. I decided to join the air force, even though my mind was not same I always wanted to help people. So after a lot of hard work, for the first time in my life i manage to complete something without giving up. I ended up in the para-rescue unit as an officer. This unit was basically the special forces area of the air force. The training was brutal, but i kept at it. I loved every second of it. As you can expect we were trained in many forms of combat and enough medicals skills to keep someone alive in time to reach a real doctor. My job would be to rescue wounded soldiers or retrieve high value targets from behind enemy lines. I was not put in command of my on unit initially. Our superiors wanted the new officers to have some experience before taking control.

Unfortunately for me, the US and RU were having a pissing contest over Ukraine and Nato's borders. RU was moving more aggressively than ever into Ukrainian territory in hopes to offset, the growing power of that US was pushing into Nato's borders. What started as a civil war was threatening to blow out into a full World War. Europe was in panic and getting ready to fight, the middle east was worse than ever. People were dying by the hundreds every day. While the US and RU were having their tantrum. Belarus said fuck it and decided that attacking Latvia was a good idea. They apparently had some past problems with each other. Been backed by the Russia, Nato mounted a counter attack. This monumental decision destabilize the whole region bring with it the start of what would be known as WW3.

At 29 my training was done. By 2021 the war encompassed most of Europe, Middle east and the Pacific theater. The first time I got deployed, I was sent to Odessa on a personnel recovery mission. Our target was an enemy defector, been held by enemy forces. During this mission i had my first kill, I had mentally tried to prepare myself. I relied on my training. Better think of them as targets and not human beings. That's what we were taught.

The moment is so fast you don't stop to think about it-it's kill or be killed. I even felt a sort of happiness, as if I had won a small confrontation. After a successful mission, It's not until later that the reality hits you. I justified my actions by reminding myself that they were the enemy. A good soldier follows orders and finishes the mission no matter what.

Other deployments followed, each one more brutal than the last. Eventually, killing became second nature. It was simply part of the job. My role involved a lot "close quarter combat". Watching your fellow brother in arms become butchers, children blown up, villages destroy..., the desolation and misery were hell. I was conflicted: how could I be okay with taking life, but not be able to see so many innocents suffer?. It came a point that i stopped being able to feel the regret and pain that came with war.

Eventually I could no longer imagine my enemies as people- fathers,, sons, brothers, fathers some forced to fight, with no other options. Somehow, in my fucked up mind, I was bringing revenge to those who took my family away from me and so they became beasts to be butcher for what they had done.

My superiors had taken notice of my work. I had gained command to my own unit eighteen months after my deployment. The job was simple: get in, retrieve target, get out. And I was good at it. Sure, our group was a little trigger happy. But we got the job done and that was all our superiors cared about.

It wouldn't be long before bad intel compromised a mission. A failed mission, three members of the unit dead and me injured. I was transferred to a new special retrieval unit after recovery . It was a covert-ops coalition between different military branches. They apparently forgot that I had spent 3 years fighting non stop. But who was I to blame them? The war was getting more brutal and casualties were reached into the millions.

So while the world was going to shit, my unit began its work. Our job was to take prisoners, interrogate them, kill them without leaving no traces of our involvement . We fought in many battles, all over Europe. In our anger and blood-lust at the death and torture of one of our own that was captured, we executed 10 captured enemy soldiers and tortured another for information. We didn't care-to us these people were less than beasts. Our anger was to be our downfall, we never noticed enemy units surround us. So we fought and fought. I could see no end to it.

I still don't know how much time passed when I was shot and captured. All I remember was thinking how it was going to be my end. I was surprised to find that I was happy. I was finally going to be able to rest. I welcomed death-no more screaming, no more blood. No longer when I closed my eyes would I see the things I'd done.

Unfortunately it was not to be. I was meant to suffer a bit more on this earth.

I knew that the rest of my squad was dead. We had orders not to be captured alive, better to take the easy way out than suffer months of torture. The Russians tortured me, beat me, starved me. But I held, I gave no information, never said a word. I did kill a few of them during my stay in their camps. I bit the jugular of one, and slit the throat of another one with a rat femur I'd managed to sharpen. This got me a few more rounds of torture and beating, but I didn't care about dying. I would make it as hard as possible for them.

Some crazy doctor took notice of me and decided that i was a perfect subject for experimentation. I was cleaned and ship it of to the coldest place I'd ever known. There was one building standing in the middle of nowhere, and nothing for miles in any direction. I think i was correct in believing i was in Siberia, that desolated shit hole.

I think the good doctor was working on some super soldier serum or some bullshit like that. Whatever it was, i knew it burned and hurt like nothing i have experience before. For days i could feel the liquid burning in my veins. I would spend days in agony. To tell you the truth i had no idea how it have been since my capture. I lost sense of time a long time ago. I was probably getting close to my 35-40 birthday but there was no way for me to know. I think i spent some agonizing years in the company of the good doctor, but i can't be sure.

I think the good doctor was working on some super soldier serum or some bullshit like that. Whatever it was, it burned and stung. It was pain like nothing I had ever experienced. For days I could feel the liquid burning in my veins. It was agony.

I had lost all sense of time at that point. I think I spent several agonizing years in the company of the doctor, but I can't be sure.

What I do know is that whatever they were giving me was working. In what way I had no idea, I was still the sack of bone and skin I had been for the past few years. All my scars were still there, but my tattoos looked like stretched out stickers printed on low quality. Yet I could feel something beating inside of me beside my heart. It had a sort of low, persistent hum that got stronger everyday.

It was during a normal round of injections that something amazing happened. The alarms started sounding, and minutes later bombs started dropping everywhere. I was elated-finally, a chance to die and escape my hell. Perhaps I would know some peace after god-knows how many years.

My luck would not allow me that.

I saw it in slow motion: I saw it in slow motion: a bomb falling from one of the newly-made holes in the ceiling, an explosion, and the fire reacting with the chemicals and serums in the lab. I remember a bright light, and the humming inside my chest reached monumental levels. with all the chemicals and different serums there. I remember a bright light and the humming inside my chest reaching monumental levels, then it wall went black.

Then it all went black.

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AN: Please review, whether you liked it or not, I would like to know what you think of the story, any suggestions etc.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or anything else from JKR world.

Huge thanks to **tomroodle** for been beta to this story. She has done an amazing job helping me and making sure I understand what i did wrong. THX

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I appeared in the middle of nowhere. I was lying in the middle of a forest-a very green forest. I took notice of what was happening around me. My brain was a little shaken after been blown up to either hell, heaven, or some bullshit i was to tired to comprehend.. It was the complete opposite of the barren wastelands of Siberia, where I'd been held for so fucking long. After I gained some of my sense back I decided it would be prudent to check my body and see how badly injured I was. To my surprise, I noticed that some of my tattoos were gone. And though I still had the same emaciated and beaten body, some of my scars had disappeared. But not all of them; I still looked like I got stuck on barbed wire.

After years of fighting my body was conditioned to react in certain ways, so when I heard what sounded like an explosion I quickly found a hiding place. Some minutes later I heard fighting and small explosions, but I could not see anything from where i was, so I decided to take a look. Years of imprisonment did not remove my training or combat experience, mind you I was still a little rusty. So I made my way to the action unnoticed. What I found there shocked me to my core. I could not believe my eyes. My brain froze for a moment, and I thought I must be hallucinating. Not forty yards from me were people in strange, old-looking cloaks waving sticks at each other. The sticks produced some kind of energy and light. I had never encounter this before. The only similar situations I could think about like this was in books or movies.I knew theories about parallel universes and multiverses. It was something I always loved. But this couldn't be that. It simply was not possible, not to mention how i got here.

I decided to have an open mind about my current situation. After some moments it started to make sense. When I was young I was an avid Harry Potter reader, suddenly it clicked; I was watching wizards and witches fighting. There were about ten of them, some dressed in what I believed was Death Eater regalia. I had no idea what year it was, or where the hell I was, for that matter. So I waited. I'd seen some of the men in black torturing some poor girl, while the others fought. After a few minutes of spell fighting, I saw the man that had been torturing the girl fall to a red spell. If my memory was correct, that was the stunning spell. Luck had it that at that moment the man was moving in my direction. In the chaos of the battle no one noticed when I dragged him off to the dense bushes. I saw one of the men in black and white mask bark some orders, and they all disappeared. After a few minutes I heard several pops. Presumably the authorities had arrived, they quickly took control of the scene. The group that was fighting the men in black disappeared almost as quickly as their enemies.

So there I was, hiding in the bushes with a man I had seen torturing a poor little girl for fun. I was certainly no stranger to murder, and I felt nothing when I decided that he had to die. Besides, I thought, maybe he had something on him that I could use. I grabbed a nearby rock and bashed his head in multiple times. I got caught in the moment, and by the time I was finished you could barely recognize the piece of mangled meat and brains as a face. Maybe I started having flashbacks to things I'd done, or maybe I was just crazy. To this day I have no fucking idea.

I had another moment of clarity and remembered that wizards sometimes carry port-keys with them. I was not sure this was true, but I was careful not to touch things that might be pork-keys. It wouldn't do me any good to appear out of nowhere in a Death Eater hideout. As I carefully stripped the man of his clothes and possessions, I took stock of what I found on him. The mask was useless to me, but the clothes were in good shape. They were a little too short but it was better than being almost naked in what appeared to be cold weather. So I had a shirt, trousers, some nice boots (thank god the man was size 13), and a small pouch that seem to be bigger on the inside. In here I found a flask with strange liquids inside-probably for potions and such-a few gold, bronze, and silver coins, and two books. His wand was also there. When I touched it I felt a strange sensation and I realized it was the same thing I'd felt during my time with the good doctor. Something was humming inside me and I felt different. Out of curiosity I tried something simple I knew from reading Harry Potter: I said " _Lumos_." To my astonishment and excitement the wand lit up, and I quickly muttered " _Nox_ " to put it out. I didn't want to give away my hiding place. I could not believe what had happened-I had performed magic. It was years since I had felt so happy and giddy. A million questions raced through my mind. What things could I do? How much power did I have, and where could I get more?. But I'd have to search for answers later. At the moment I needed to get out of there alive and find some place safe within the non-magical population. I didn't trust these people, and if this was indeed a parallel universe where magicals were real, I did not want to stumble into them at this moment with no itel or plan. God knows what they would do to me if they ever found out where i came from.

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AN: I realize this was a short chapter, but i wanted to get it out. Next chapters will be about 1.5k-2.5k words. I hope you enjoy are enjoy the story. Planing to update in the next few days.

Please review, i want to know your thoughts

If you have any suggestions or find any mistakes you can send me a pm or review.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the HP characters or anything else from JKR works.

An: Thx again to **tomroodle** for an amazing beta on this chapter.

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I quickly got dressed and decided to walk further into the dense forest but still kept the main area visible. Ten minutes later I was far away enough that I could relax for a bit and get my bearings. After the adrenaline rush had subsided, I was able to reflect back on how truly fucked and, surprisingly, how truly saved I was. At first I thought I'd finally snapped and was hallucinating. But it all felt too real. I decided to keep moving it was getting dark fast.I was beginning to feel the true weight of the day's events. I managed to make a quick camp for the night. It was cold, but I would survive.

As I lay on the small, makeshift bed I'd made from of moss and various items I scavenged, I could only think of my family: would they be alive here? Would they even know who I am? I did not care anymore if they could not recognize me; it was probably better if they didn't. I would not want my mother and father to see what their son had become. I made a silent vow to find them and make sure they had the life they deserved. The peacefulness of the forest managed to calm my troubled mind enough to let me fall asleep. Like each night for the past few years, only death and destruction would occupy my dreams.

I always had a problem with light; the moment it hit my face I had to get up. This, in many ways, was good and bad. At the moment it was working to my benefit. By the time I got up the sun was high in the sky. From what I could tell it was probably six or seven in the morning. One thing was obvious-I was hungry as hell. My last meal was a small protein bar with minimal calories to keep me alive, and that had been two or three days ago. Before the bombing started I was supposed to be fed, but here we are.

I reviewed my options: I could go back to where the fight happened, or I could investigate and try to find out more about where I was. But I was an outsider. My appearance was dreadful and my accent clearly indicated I was from warmer parts of the world. No, I could not take that risk. Better to be mistaken for a hobo or an extremely unhygienic tourist by normal people. Thus hungry, sore, and tired, I made my way to the trail beside the bushes and started walking.

The place was beautiful. It looked like the photos of the UK countryside I'd seen when I was in my twenties. I dreamed many times of visiting places like this. By the time I got the chance to see it, in the other world, the lands were scorched and damaged by the war. After walking several kilometers I noticed a house in the distance. It was most likely a farmer's home, as I could see livestock here and there, and the surrounding area was fenced. Deciding to try my luck, I headed in that direction. I tried to think of a good story to tell whoever it was I would meet there, so that they would agree to help me. At the door I was greeted by an old lady who looked to be in her sixties. She appeared to have a kind face. I was nervous. I needed her to believe me-if she didn't, I would surely suffer from hunger and dehydration.

I greeted the lady with a smile that was obviously forced.

"Good morning Ma'am. I'm lost and need help," I said.

The lady seemed reluctant but gave me a timid hello. It must have been my appearance, I realized, so I launched into an explanation of what "happened."

"Ma'am, I was camping in the woods alone when I got lost. It's been days, i'm starving and thirsty, and I can't remember much. I think I fell and hit my head pretty hard."

She still seemed unsure, I could feel her eyes on me taking in every detail.

I started pleading: "please, ma'am, I need help." My accent was getting more pronounced and there was desperation in my voice. The lady must have seen it in my face. She smiled and called for her husband.

The old man was tall and well built, it was apparent he had been working outside for all his life. I realized that, no matter my training or experience, in my condition the old man could probably break me in half if he wanted. After talking between themselves they decided to let me in.

Then they started asking questions.

"What's your name, boy?" said the old man.

My mind was going crazy-should I tell him my name? or make one up? I decided to tell some truths and some lies. It wasn't as if they were going to recognize it, anyway.

"Gregg, sir," I responded.

"So, my wife says your were lost camping and hit your head. What can you recall?" he asked.

"Well, sir, all I can remember is that when night fell, I somehow got lost. I fell and hit my head, and woke up the next day, I believe. My memories are all fuzzy and I can't remember much before I got here. I have been wandering, trying to find someone, for a few days now. I'm not from this area-I'm from the Caribbean. I must have come here on vacation," I finished, my voice hoarse from such strain after so many years of little use.

"Sir, i'm really hungry and thirsty, is there some food you could provide? And some information would be appreciated. If you can spare anything, I would be in your debt," I pleaded one last time.

The couple looked at me with sad eyes and I knew then that I had them.

"Sure Gregg, let's get to the kitchen. I'm Edgard, and this is my wife Jizbell." Edgard offered a kind smile.

I followed them inside the house. It was a simple country home. I noticed a TV in the living room that seemed to be from the eighties or nineties. That didn't help me much to figure out what year it was.

We got to the kitchen and Jizbell started preparing me a meal. She gave me some water. I had forgotten how good water was.

While the meal was being prepared, Edgard started asking more questions-where was I from; what I did; whether I had any family here; and if I remembered where I was staying before going camping. So I answered his questions carefully.

"I was from the Caribbean- raised in Puerto Rico, born in the states".

"I'm an Engineer and no I do not have any family here. I guess I must have been staying on a town close by."

I took this opportunity to ask where exactly I was, and how far away was the closest town.

Edgar replied, "you are in the outskirts of the Forest of Dean, and the closest town is Coleford. We are near the Welsh border."

So I was in England. How the hell did I get here? I thought. I played it smooth and asked if I could get a ride to the town. If it was a tourist area, I could explain that I probably was staying there. Edgar said he'd be happy to give me a lift, but that it had to be in the morning.

The food was delicious, probably the best thing I'd had in years. We spent the night talking about each other, though I was careful not to say anything potentially incriminating. The old couple gave me some of their son's old clothes, which fit pretty nicely, and I had my first real bath in what felt like years. I let the water calm me and enjoyed the heat. Jizbell supplied me with a first aid kit to mend some of my bruises and scrapes.

I was put up in the guest room. When the couple was at sleep, I turned my attention to the small pouch I'd stolen from the Death Eater back in the forest. I dumped everything onto the bed and started investigating what I had acquired. The contents of the bag confirmed my theory that I was in a world where magic was real. There was the wand, a variety of coins-thirty-five gold, twenty silver, and thirteen bronze, and four flasks filled with strange substances. For all I knew, they contained real potions-just like in the books. Better wait till i could get to Diagon Alley if it existed here and have an apothecary identify them. The last two items were books, far too large to fit reasonably into the tiny pouch, at least in the world I knew. The titles were Magik Most Evile and Moste Potente Potions. I remember these books I read about them in the HP books.

I started reading Magik Most Evile first. The book had what seemed like foul magic in it: blood boiling curses, flaying curses, etc. I could see some medical applications, but all of them were probably used for harvesting animals and cooking years ago. I knew I would likely find some extremely nasty things. This solidified my idea that magic was not black and white like in the HP books i have read.

I kept reading and practiced some of the wand movement as directed in the book. I was not going to try any of them for fear of hurting myself. There was no way to tell if I could perform more powerful magic in my state. But it was good to know, in case of an emergency, what the procedures were.

After about 4 hours of reading and practicing I had made it through a third of the book. I finally let darkness claimed me for another sessions of nightmares.

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AN: Next update in a few days, review if you can. Any suggestion are appreciated.


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